Private Emotion
by Whelmed
Summary: Prompt: Moment. "He did not ask what it was that needed to be 'ameliorated'. He didn't need to."


**TITLE:** Private Emotion  
**RATING:** PG/K+  
**CHARACTERS:** Aya & Razer  
**PROMPT:** _Moment_  
**SUMMARY:** He did not ask what it was that needed to be _'ameliorated'._ He didn't need to.

**ADDITIONAL NOTES:** Apparently, the internet has dubbed this Razaya week. So here's a drabble in their honor. Takes place post-Homecoming.

* * *

-o-o-o-

* * *

He found her sitting atop the _Interceptor_, docked out in the open, staring at Oa's brightly-lit nighttime sky. Legs dangling off the edge, hands nearly folded in her lap, she sat with impeccable posture save for the upward tilt of her head.

"What are you doing, Aya?"

At first, she gave no indication that she had either heard him or registered his presence. Then, "I am observing the celestial patterns of suns in relation to one another."

_Star-gazing._"Why?"

"Because." There was a faint pause, allowing her time to process a more satisfactory answer. "Associations can be made to the memories in my current database. The effect is...ameliorating."

He did not ask what it was that needed to be '_ameliorated_'. He didn't need to.

The incident occurred shortly after Green Lantern Hal Jorden left, returning to his home planet for something called _dessert_. Whatever it was, it had been worth skipping out on his usual post-battle celebration, and remaining just barely long enough for the Guardians to debrief him. In this case, debriefing had translated to a rare, almost meaningful expression of gratitude. Then, he'd departed, and the Guardians had shifted their attention to Aya.

Her existence fascinated them at first, as they individually marveled at the advancement of one of their own creations. The sleekness of her self-appointed design (to which both Aya and Razer remained silent regarding certain "influences"), and the ease with which she was able to move about. If they had been any other species, one might have almost assumed them proud when hearing of the way she flew through the lighthouse beams with near impossible precision. How she disarmed the security with a few simple alterations in programming.

Problems arose the longer they interrogated. They wanted to know _how_this was possible. What functions Aya could now serve that were previously impossible. The pros and cons of a navigation system that could not only self-navigate, but self-maneuver. They circled her robotic form several times over, eyes wide...and cautious. With every answer Aya gave, no matter the topic, their expression darkened.

Razer knew exactly why: it wasn't just what Aya was saying to them, but the way she said it. There were subtle inflictions in her tone that went beyond base programmed speech patterns. There was a shine to her eyes that indicated more than visual stimulation. She spoke not just of her role in the mission, but of details that would normally be deemed insignificant, such as interactions between shipmates. But most telling of all was the upward turn of her lip corners when she spoke of Razer, meeting the Red Lantern's gaze each time. And the way he gazed back.

In hindsight, he shouldn't've been surprised. The Guardians had proven themselves a cold race before-their history with Red Lanterns and Star Sapphires alone were proof of that. Still, the 19-year-old had seldom felt such Rage as he did the moment they uttered those damning words: mistake. malfunction. unacceptable.

It was Aya herself that kept him from striking them all down where they hovered. A gentle murmur of his name, and the lightest touch upon his shoulder were, mercifully, all it took. To attack then would only hurt her case further, and possibly condemn them both. Even as his whole body glowed with the emotion-fueled power, he _Willed_ himself to turn and walk away. The irony of it all didn't escape him.

Hours later, Aya's fate in the eyes of her creators was still undecided.

"I won't let them hurt you," Razer insisted, knowing the memories were still as fresh in her memory as they were in his.

She shook her head. "My system is incapable of neurological response to physical stimulation. It is impossible for me to feel pain."

It was such an _Aya_-like response, he almost smiled.

"Not all pain is physical, you know."

She fell silent at this, not blinking or twitching or falling prey to any of the usual involuntary signs that his words affected her in any way. Still as she was, Razer would have assumed her to slip into stasis mode, had he not been at her side as long as he had. Recognized the silence to mean something more.

"...no. It is not."

Her voice came out soft and low, almost child-like. It cut through him like a knife, and he visibly winced at the knowledge that he had been right. She _was_hurt. Possibly even afraid. Aya was as powerful as any Lantern of any Spectrum he had ever met, and far more intelligent. She had faced Atrocitous himself, nearly been deleted or reprogramed too many times, and even had to put up with Queen Aga'po's cruel (and completely untrue) assessment of her very nature. Yet the thought of outright rejection by the Guardians themselves frightened her.

Razer did the only thing he could right then: he offered her a hand. She accepted, and once on her feet, the Red Lantern pulled her into a strong, comforting embrace. Her head rested against his solid chest, arms at her sides but hardly stiff. They had been in this position once before, just after he'd rescued her not thirty feet below where they now stood.

One would assume a machine to feel cold. Aya was just the opposite; a subtle warmth radiated from every inch of her. Core Energy, perhaps, but Razer preferred to liken it to organic body heat. It was too real to believe otherwise. Aya was too real. Too alive. No matter what the Guardians decided, she would always be real to him.

Then he pulled back just enough so that their eyes met. Her expression perfectly mirrored the last time, and he knew she was thinking of _it _again. That fleeting moment when they both _knew_. But there was no longer the threat of war on the horizon. No reason to immediately separate. No Hal Jordan to find. This time, the moment was theirs to keep. Wordlessly, Razer leaned down to place a light kiss atop her forehead. It was an action he had performed long ago, for only one another. For the very same reason. But it wasn't Ilana he was thinking of now. It was just Aya.

And, judging from the expression on her face when he looked at her again, she knew that too.


End file.
